Slow
by The Revenge of DarkSkittyPower
Summary: A collection of poems and short stories revolving around the chemistry between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
1. Slow

Slow.

Take it so, so, so slow. Feel the fearful, anxious, rapid beating of his heart, and help it calm. Help it rest. Help it breathe, help it slow.

Take his hands, not his arms or waist or neck or face, but his hands. Take them tentatively, for you are scared too. His hands, they're cold, please warm them, make them real again. White knuckles, white knuckles, don't hurt him. Don't crush his nimble fingers. Hold his hands kindly. He his home, and your hands welcome his hands once again.

Look into his eyes. Take your time. Skin, white, colour, black. Rings and lines in the iris, they are always changing. Green. Blue. Grey. Tan. Dark as the night, bright as the day, always, always, always changing. You stare, he stares. You're here, he's here. Keep it real, keep it here, seeing and holding and breathing and slow. Feel, focus, now.

Lean in, take your hands back. Greet him with yourself, your body around his. Nothing more, nothing less. Inhale, exhale. His hands are warm, as is his heart. The fear is gone. You're alive with him. Take it slower, slower, slower. Time is frozen, forever, never.

A kiss, and the clocks churn.

**For Thomas. **


	2. Regret

John. Do people regret things? SH

Of course. Why? JW

Can you tell me how that works, as in what it feels like? SH

…Well, it starts with someone doing or saying something. They might not mean it, or maybe they wanted to keep it to themself, or maybe it just wasn't the right time. JW

Anyway, they'll feel ashamed or stupid for what they did. JW

Is the situation always shameful or stupid when someone feels regret? SH

No, not always. Sometimes people feel regret even though the thing they did is perfectly fine. JW

So regretful actions can be forgiven? SH

Anything can be forgiven, no matter how terrible. I mean, that's my opinion, but… JW

Why? JW

I want to say something I'm going to regret, but I don't know if it's worth it. SH

Say something to who? JW

To someone. Does it matter? SH

I suppose not. What do you want to say? JW

I wanted to tell them about how I feel. SH

Wow, you feel? JW

Obviously. SH

Listen. Emotions are fine. You aren't accustomed to them as much as others are, I know that for a fact. JW

Lots of people feel silly after expressing themselves, but it's only natural. JW

Do you think if I say something I regret, they'll forgive me? SH

I would. JW

Would things stay the same between them and I? SH

That's tough, because it depends on the person and what you're expressing. JW

So what should I do? SH

Go for it. That's what my old friend from the war used to say. JW

Go for it? SH

Go for it. JW

You'll be home soon? SH

Yep. Give me a few minutes. JW

* * *

John stepped into the flat, carrying the groceries he had just purchased towards the kitchen. Setting the bags on the counter, he turned to find his flatmate watching his every move. "Evening," he greeted. Sherlock seemed frozen in place, and the blond would have mistaken him for a statue had the taller man not been clenching and unclenching his jaw. "You alright?" Watson approached him.

The detective looked down slightly, breathing slowly. He closed his eyes.

"Sherlock? What's wrong?" the doctor interrogated, "Did you talk with the person you said you were going to? Did they say something bad?"

The brown-haired man shivered. "What's the emotion before regret? The one where you feel like you don't exist because the world has fallen out from below your feet?"

John paused, thinking. "Hopelessness," he concluded, "But you can't let that get in the way of things. If you hide from the future, the hopelessness you feel is deserved."

Sherlock opened his eyes and gazed at his companion. Stepping forward, he pressed his lips to the shorter man's forehead, exhaling lightly. He quickly broke away, turning his back to John.

Watson stood in shocked silence as he tried to process the situation.

"Regret," Holmes murmured almost inaudibly, "Is much more painful and confusing than I anticipated." Glancing over his shoulder, the detective looked at John's feet. "I know you don't feel the same for me. It's ok. I just… I don't want you to be scared of me. Or hate me. Or leave me…"

John put his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry," he responded. Turning towards the door, he padded down the stairs and out onto the snowy streets.


	3. A Moment To Privacy

And so

I wanted to say everything.

You knew it, didn't you?  
You.  
You won't ever listen to

Me,

And I think I love you for it.

I want you here,  
Right

Now.

I want you to catch me,

Need  
You

To catch me,

But you can't.  
I wish  
You could.

Goodbye John.  
Goodbye Sherlock.

And so

I wanted to say everything.


End file.
